


Lightning

by shadowswillscream



Category: Pitch Perfect (Movies)
Genre: Angst, Drug Use, F/F, Slow Burn, beca's a low key assassin, but im also not sorry so there, im sorry, protect emily junk
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-12-18
Updated: 2018-12-18
Packaged: 2019-09-21 17:33:29
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,774
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17047544
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shadowswillscream/pseuds/shadowswillscream
Summary: She tells her therapist they’re just dreams, explains to Emily she travels because of her job, but it’s neither of those are the truth. Beca is on the hunt for revenge- to kill, to torture, to find the pieces of her she lost years ago.





	Lightning

**Author's Note:**

> Wow it’s been a while since I started rewriting this fic. If you were around back when this AU first appeared, you’ll know Lightning was taken down due to my lack of interest in where the storyline was going. A few years ago, I had a different path I wanted to take with this story. So I apologize that this won’t be that same story, but I hope you stick around anyway. This version of Lightning has the same gist, but this version is definitely darker and has more mystery to it that the original. Hope you enjoy this version just as much - if not more - than the previous one.

“I was happy once; middle school, eighth grade,” Beca explains distantly, running her fingers along the stitchings of a grey pillow. It feels like silk against her fingers and she can’t help but continue to enjoy the feeling. 

 

“Tell me about that.” 

 

_ “Beca!”  _

 

_ Beca whips her head around, looking down the sidewalk to see the one and only Chloe Beale running towards her.  _ _ Beca had always been confused by Chloe; she was so outgoing and charming and friendly that she could be hanging out with whoever she wanted, but for whatever reason, she only ever wanted to be around Beca _ _. Chloe has said that she likes Beca’s company, but Beca’s still trying to figure out why that is.  _

 

_ “Wait up!” Chloe stops running when she’s next to her, smiling that famous Chloe Beale smile as she catches her breath. “What, you couldn’t wait for me?”  _

 

_ “I thought you were going with Aubrey and Stacie.” Beca shrugs, gripping the straps on her backpack.  _

 

_ “No silly.”  Chloe grabs Beca’s hand, threading her fingers through Beca’s. “We always walk home together.”  _

 

_ Beca looks down at their hands, her heart racing. Chloe Beale, the Chloe Beale who’s a freshman in  _ high school _ , is holding her hand. It’s every 7th grade boy’s dream. Her fingers twitch against Chloe’s, feeling the sweat forming on her palm. Have her hands always been this warm? “I-” She looks up at Chloe whose smile has faded.  _

 

_ “Is this not okay?” Chloe lifts their hands in front of their faces so Beca no longer has a clear view of Chloe’s face.  _

 

_ “N-no it’s...” Beca smirks, “it’s fine. But what about Tom?”  _

 

_ Chloe drops their hands back down and she shakes her head, looking away from Beca in favor of looking at the sidewalk. “Tom and I are  _ not _ a thing and I don’t think we ever will be.”  _

 

_ “Sorry.” Beca looks down at the sidewalk.  _

 

_ “No.” Chloe giggles. “I don’t  _ want _ to be with him. I wanna to be with  _ you. _ ”  _

 

_ Beca smirks. “Weirdo.”  _

 

_ “Shut up.”  Chloe laughs. _

_ There’s a steady beat of silence before Chloe looks at her with so much sincerity - or perhaps it’s just down right affection - that it makes Beca’s heart race and her head feel heavy. Briefly she wonders if this is what it feels like to be drunk.  _

 

“Was that the only time you were happy?” 

 

Beca shakes her head with eyes trained to the floor, fingers tightly gripping the pillow. She had always been happy around Chloe Beale. 

 

“Were you happy in high school?” 

 

“Yeah, I always was with her.” Beca grins at the memories with a melancholy feeling in her chest. “Usually on Wednesdays I’d bike from my house to her’s, climb over the fence and up the tree to her room.”

 

_ Beca rests her bike against the white fence and places her hands between the pickets, hoisting herself over the it rather ungracefully. Part of her wants to run to the tree with excitement, this is always her favorite part of the day. However, she keeps her cool and walks to the tree with branches she feels were made for her. The first branch is so low and the others seem to line the tree in such a way that makes it easy for Beca to climb up and over Chloe’s balcony.  _

 

_ Apparently Chloe’s been waiting for her because when she reaches the balcony, Chloe’s right there. Her hands are covered in white paint and Beca feels excitement course through her at the idea of seeing something Chloe’s painting. _

 

_ “Hey.” Beca grins, feet betweens the bars of the balcony.  _

 

_ Biting the edge of her lip, Chloe’s eyes dart down, “Hi.” She looks back into Beca’s eyes with a faint smile.  _

 

_ Anxiously, Beca watches as Chloe’s eyes lower, “Um,” she drums her fingers against the windowsill anxiously, “can I come in?”  _

 

_ Chloe smiles wide and bright as she grabs Beca’s hand to help her into Chloe’s room. “Sorry.”  _

 

_ Standing properly on two feet, Beca looks at the adjacent wall that’s half painted over, covering Chloe’s previous paintings. Beca nearly screeches, “What are you doing?”  _

 

_ “Starting anew.” Chloe walks over to the paint can, dipping the brush into the white paint.  _

 

_ “Why?” Beca asks, settling on the bed to watch Chloe paint over a made up land filled with hills, moss covered shacks, and flowers and vines that wrap around a garden arbor. It reminds Beca of a scene that belongs in a fantasy book filled with magic and myth; a type of book Chloe Beale definitely loses herself in.  _

 

_ “Because,” Chloe drawls, “I can.” She beams at Beca, handing over a chip brush. _

 

“And, tell me, Beca...” Her therapist, Grace, adjusts her oblong, turtle shell glasses. “...how does that make you feel; the memory?” Beca looks at her therapist, eyes scanning over her black heels, skinny black trousers, and a white, silky blouse. Her therapist isn’t much older, possibly in her late 20’s, very early 30’s. She isn’t quite sure. Beca’s never asked, but she knows Grace is almost too young to be the type of therapist who’s well recommended by people with million dollar lives.

 

Scoffing, Beca slouches further back into the black leather couch; her eyes almost twitching at the creaking sound. “Isn’t that a bit cliche of you to ask?” 

 

Tossing her notebook on her desk, Grace then uncrosses her legs, leaning forward. “I’m asking because even though I believe Chloe is a very big reason why you’re here, you don’t talk about her like she’s anything more than a stranger you had a short friendship with, which I refuse to believe considering you’ve mentioned you’ve known her since you were in grade school.”  

 

Narrowing her eyes at Grace, Beca sneers, feeling if she doesn’t Grace will press on the topic, “I’m not here to talk about her.” 

  
“Then why are you? You aren’t required to see me by law. You’re 25 and you live alone, so no one is forcing you to see me. So tell me, Beca, what brings you in every month, every third week on a Thursday at 3pm?” 

 

“Because-” Beca looks at the floor, her eyes following the edges of the cream colored rug and the stark contrast between it and the mocha wood floors, “-I need someone to listen.”

 

“Don’t you have Emily for that?” 

 

“Emily doesn’t understand.” 

 

“Why not?” 

 

“Because she  _ doesn’t _ ,” Beca bites. 

 

“Have you told her how you feel?” 

 

Beca scoffs with a shake of her head, “She still won’t understand. Emily doesn’t understand grief. Not the way I do. My dad left when I was eight, and he never looked back. I mean, why would he? He got to leave sunny, California for cold, rainy afternoons in England.” Beca chuckles somewhat somberly. “I lost one of my best friends when I was 15 and then my fiance, who had been my best friend since third grade, at 21.” She sighs, “I think Emily lost her pet goldfish when she was nine.”

 

“But you don’t know that she won’t.” 

 

“ _ I do _ .” Shaking her head, Beca leans back into the sofa, “She wouldn’t - won’t - understand. She doesn’t understand why I avoid our friends, why I never call my mother, but I’ll answer every time she calls me. She doesn’t understand why I won’t sleep with the same person more than three times and why I throw away a phone number given to me by the barista at the coffee shop in the apartment complex I have in LA.” Lifting her hand up, shaking her hand with her finger pointed at Grace. “But you do. Because you have a degree in psychology and probably a million other things considering what I’m paying you.” Beca explains with a smirk on her face. 

 

Grace shakes her head as she picks up her notebook again, taking her pen in her free hand and clicking the end of it. She scrawls quickly against the notebook, the only sound in the room other the incessant ticking from the small clock on the left wall above the window. “Have you had another dream?” 

 

Beca frowns, swiping her tongue between the top of her teeth and her upper lip. Breaking eye contact, Beca looks around the room, pretending that she’s doing her best to recall the dreams that Grace speaks of. 

  
“Another?” Beca muses, eyeing Grace’s degrees that are neatly arranged against the wall behind her therapist, framed in a coffee colored wood that throws a glare off from the sun. 

 

“Yes, of you killing someone.”

 

“Had one last night.” Beca looks at the armrest, picking at the leather.

 

_ Beca rolls her head back, hearing the bones in her neck pop. She rolls her shoulders before taking off at a breakneck pace to launch herself off the roof and rolling onto another, chasing after a man trying to flee. The thunder rumbles above her, waiting for her call, waiting for her to cause a storm to fully erupt.  _

 

_ She wonders why they always try to run because they can’t outrun her, can’t outsmart her, can’t hide from the destruction she brings down from the sky and the energy that she can pull from the powerlines. She’s certainly not complaining. There’s a certain rush to chasing down someone who’s going to be begging for mercy later. _

 

_ As the man leaps to a roof a little lower than the one she’s on, Beca jumps onto a nearby powerline and slides across them, sparks erupting underneath her shoes. The fun part of gliding across power lines is that the man has no idea she’s decided to follow him from above. _

 

_ The man scrambles for cover under some tables and Beca smirks, stopping on the wooden pole, wrapping her fingers around electrical wires, ripping them away and consuming their energy. As she wraps the cords around her hands, Beca waits for her moment, waits until the man has relaxed and she’s figured out how much energy she needs to make the jump from the power line and change directions so she’s immediately facing him when she lands.  _

 

_ As soon as he seems to relax, Beca jumps off of the powerline, sparks igniting as she does. Electricity sparks from her hands and the sky rumbles with thunder as she soars through the air. Just as she hoped, she lands on a table right next to the man and sends a wave of electricity through the table and to the ground. Tables nearby fly away and fall over from the force of it and sparks fly everywhere. However, to Beca, all that matters is the man’s yelling.  _

 

_ Looking around she sees the man on his hands and knees with his hand on the back of his neck. With a few strides, she’s right above him and pulling him up by his jacket and flipping him over and her hands go to his neck, thumbs pressing into his larynx and waves of electrical energy surround her hands, waiting for the command to surge through the man’s body. He sputters, trying to take in as much oxygen as he can.  _

 

_ “Where is he?” Her tone unwavering, watching with cold and unforgiving eyes. She eases up on his neck, simply holding him. She knows he know he has nowhere to go. They usually do when they work for Luke.  _ __  
_  
_ __ “I don’t know anything!” He shouts and Beca can tell he’s trying to be brave, but his eyes give away his fear. 

 

_ Beca narrows her eyes. “You’re lying Damion. You’ve been working with him since the beginning. You’re not his right hand, but you know damn well where he is.” She sends a small, painful shock through his body. “Now  _ talk _.”  _

 

_ He grits his teeth, brow furrowing in pain. “I  _ don’t know _.”  _

 

_ Beca delivers a slightly more intense shock. “Wrong answer, try again.”  _

 

_ “I-” he stutters when Beca presses her thumbs press into his throat again, “-Germany. He’s in Germany.”  _

 

_ Beca releases him from her grip, eyes narrowing. “Where in Germany?”  _

 

_ Damion laughs. “Like I’m telling you anything more.”  _

 

“And then you killed him.” Grace states more than she asks. 

 

“Yeah. It was-” She flicks her pointer finger against her nose nervously, before setting her hand down back in her lap. “-intense.” 

 

“I know we discussed the lightning you sometimes talk about, do you think that has anything to do with being struck by lightning as a kid?” 

 

“No, I think it’s a dream and weird shit happens in dreams all the time.” 

 

“Okay, know-it-all, tell me then.” 

 

“I think you wish you had those powers. I think you wish you could’ve saved your best friend, your fiance, and that you think you could’ve had you had those powers.” 

 

Beca grits her teeth. “Is that so?” 

 

“Yeah,” Grace says softly, “but you can’t keep living in your past, Beca. I don’t think either of them would want you spending the rest of your life weighing on the what if’s. I think you need to reach out to Emily because I think she feels a little more of what had happened than you think. I know she wasn’t there or all that close to them, but she did know them and I think she’s the support you need.” 

 

Swiping her tongue over the front of her teeth, Beca looks out the window taking a deep breath to calm herself. “I think our time is up.” Beca stands from the couch, picking up her leather jacket and slinging it over her shoulder. “I’ll see you next month.” 

 

Grace stands. “Beca please consider what I said.” 

 

“Yeah.” she rolls her eyes as she opens the door to leave. “Okay.” 

 

“Beca, seriously.” 

 

Beca looks at Grace briefly before walking into the hall and shutting the door.

ϟ

 

Beca walks out of the elevator into the parking structure, heading for her grey R8. She’s pretty sure the therapist is right (at least about Emily), but she’s not entirely sure she’s ready to tell Emily what’s really going on. That it isn’t work pulling her this way and that around the world, that her “job” in LA is a set up and that her real job is taking on contracts to silently take down business men in power or anyone who has enough money to pay for the murder of someone else. She’s not sure she’s ready to explain she isn’t done hunting down people for revenge, she’s not sure she’s ready to explain she hasn’t be keeping her powers at bay. Her hands shake as she opens the car door thinking about how disappointing she’s being to not only Emily, but to the ones she’s lost as well. 

 

The engine rumbles to life at the push of a button and her phone immediately connects to the car; D.I.D’s Funnybones plays and Beca turns up the volume as she waits for the engine to warm up in the frigid cold. She watches as her breath comes out in clouds of condensation, quickly crawling towards the windshield only to disappear. 

 

_ “Becaw!”  _

 

_ Beca turns from the records she’s looking at to search for Jesse, “Dude what did I say about saying that in public?”  _

 

_ She’s half joking. _

 

_ She finds him in the Rock and Roll isle, holding several CDs close to his chest with one hand while the other is tucked behind his back. His face is lit up like he’s a kid waking up on Christmas morning. _

 

_ “What did you find?” She smiles, walking towards him, her hand reaching out to grab at one of the cases.  _

 

_ Jesse shakes his head, twisting his body away from her, “Uh, uh it’s a surprise.”  _

 

_ “Then why’d you call me over here?” She asks incredulously, but smiles anyway, amused by his antics.  _

 

_ “Because I did want to show you this.” He brings his hand from behind his back, revealing a record.  _

 

_ It’s an exclusive Sugarfoot record, the teal one he’s been searching high and low for.  _

 

_ “You found it?” Beca smiles, wide and free. She lets out a breath of laughter, giving him a hug.  _

 

_ “I’m totally getting this. You can’t find this anywhere.” He grins, looking giddy.  _

 

_ Beca can’t help but fall in love with him all over again. _

 

Beca pulls through the cemetery gates, finding a parking spot. She sits in her car for a moment, watching the snowfall against the windshield. Most of the tombstones have wreaths in front of them or large red ribbons wrapped around them. The snow covers up most of the grass, although taller blades poke out, causing the snow to look speckled. She knows that soon enough the tombstones will be buried in heavy white fluff from the snow storm that’s supposed to hit in the very early hours of tomorrow.  

 

Grabbing her cigarettes out of the glove compartment, Beca makes her way towards a familiar headstone. Her fingers searching through the mostly empty cigarette box, pulling one out and wrapping her lips around it. Inhaling deeply, she lights the the other end before blowing out the burning chemicals with a shiver. 

 

She stares down at the headstone with a furrowed brow as she stares as the engraving. 

 

> _ Jesse Andrew Swanson 1992- December 24th 2016 _

 

“Hey loser, it’s me.” Beca sighs. “It’s that time of year again and I still haven’t gotten any further than where we left off. I know from last night that,” She shakes her head taking another drag. “that Luke’s somewhere off the radar in Germany.” Kneeling to the ground, Beca puts her hand on the headstone. “I know, I know you’re saying I should be careful when I head to Germany since it’s where…” Sighing, she closes her eyes and faint gunshots ring in her ears along with crying and yelling. 

 

She pushes those thoughts, those memories back where they belong. Tucked away behind careful walls. 

 

“As Beca, I promise to be careful, but you know as whatever  _ they _ call me- Lightning, I...” Beca rubs her forehead with the heel of her palm, cigarette burning away. “I can’t promise anything. I-” Clenching her jaw Beca tries to keep her emotions at bay, tries to extinguish the burning emotions that are lodged in her chest. “-I love you.” 

 

Pushing herself off the ground, Beca finishes her cigarette as she looks at the wilted Christmas wreath around Jesse’s headstone, how the needles are nearly all gone and one of the pine cones has fallen off. She tells herself she should get flowers by the time spring rolls around. 

 

_ Jesse grins across the dinner table.  _

 

_ They’ve been together three years now and Beca couldn’t be more grateful for Jesse making arrangements at her favorite restaurant in France.  _

 

_ “What?” Beca narrows her eyes.  _

_  
_ _ “Nothing.” His expression unchanging and his voice distant.  _

 

_ Beca knows what he’s thinking about, knows that she’s on his mind and that he thinks she’s so beautiful. She knows because she’s known this man for over a decade now. Her foot swings out quickly but with a preciseness to not kick him too hard in the shin. “Liar.”  _

 

_ “Ouch, you wound me, Bec.” He cringes fauxly.  _ __  
  


_ “Do not.” Beca smirks at his face.  _

 

_ Jesse shakes his head with a smile, his eyes filled with what Beca knows is love. “Marry me.”  _

 

_ “What?” Beca frowns, her heart picking up pace.  _

 

_ Jesse’s smile grows as he fishes something out of his pocket and moves out of his chair to kneel on the floor in front of Beca. “Bec-”  _

 

_ Cocking her head to the side, Beca cringes. “Jesse, you’re doing that cliche movie thing.”  _

 

_ Jesse laughs and looks at the floor. “God, Beca, only you would interrupt someone mid proposal.”  _

 

_ Beca rolls her eyes. “Because you’re being weird.”  _

 

_ “Do you want me to stand on the table instead?”  _

 

_ Beca shoves his shoulder. “No!”  _

 

_ “Then let me do this.”  _

 

_ “Okay, okay, fine.” Beca rolls her eyes, sitting expectantly in her chair, unsure whether or not to cross her arms or grip the edges of the chair.  “Go on.”  _

 

_ “Beca Mitchell, I have known you for 17 years and through those 17 years, not once have you ever made it through an entire movie. And even though you don’t appreciate real cinema art-”  _

 

_ “Hey!” Beca scowls, though she knows he’s joking.  _

 

_ Jesse chuckles with a grin. “I love you so much.” his voice softens and he pauses, “And I want to spend the rest of my life by your side. So,” he flips open the black box, revealing a small ring, “will you marry me?”  _

 

_ “Yeah,” Beca shrugs, doing her best to come off as stoic, even though her heart is thudding against her chest and her head feels light. “I guess.”  _

 

_ “You guess?”  _

_  
_ _ “Yes, you idiot, now get off the floor.” Beca laughs, pulling on Jesse’s arm. _

 

_ “You’re always so impatient.” He smiles, really smiles at her as he slides the ring onto her finger. _

 

_ “Hey, you’re the one marrying me.” She smiles back at him, biting the inside of her cheek.  _

 

_ “Yeah,” he puts the box on the table before putting hands on either side of her face and kissing her, “I am.”  _

 

“Figured I’d find you here.” 

 

Beca narrows her eyes looking to her left to see none other than Emily Junk wrapped in a long coat and scarf. Emily looks tired and Beca assumes it’s due to a late night in the studio. “So you found me, what do you want, kid?” 

  
“I just wanted to make sure you’re okay, Beca,” Emily explains as she walks towards Beca, hands in her coat and shoulders hunched up to fight the cold - something Beca doesn’t care about. 

 

Frowning, Beca takes another drag from the quickly disappearing cigarette, “What do you think?” 

 

“I think Chloe and Jesse would kick your butt for smoking.” Emily shrugs. 

 

“Excuse me for not hopping on the vape train.”  

 

Emily shakes her head. “I don’t...” she looks at the ground. “I don’t think they’d approve of either. Both are pretty detrimental to your health and can lead to death and I don’t think Jesse or Chloe would want you resorting to smoking to help you cope with-”    
  
“ _ Emily _ .” Beca grits, 

  
Emily ducks her head. “Sorry.” 

 

With a sigh, Beca finishes her cigarette. “You’re still here, so what do you want?” 

 

“How was the therapy appointment?” Emily asks. 

 

Beca raises her brow at question. “It was fine.” 

 

“Just fine?” Emily’s eyes dart away from hers and Beca knows something else is up.    
  
“Yep.” 

  
“It’s Christmas Eve tomorrow.” Emily tilts her head, looking anxious, “Are-” she shivers in the cold “-you staying here for Christmas?”    
  
“I’m in New York, aren’t I?” Beca walks away from Jesse’s grave, walking towards Emily. 

 

“Do you wanna stay at my place?” 

 

“Yeah. Sounds nice.” 

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! 
> 
> Feel free to scream with me about this on my tumblr.


End file.
